


laundromat

by verballybrash



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, POV: first person, Romance, SpUk, UkSp, Unrequited Love, this doesn't have a happy ending sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-02
Updated: 2015-04-02
Packaged: 2018-03-20 21:35:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3665979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verballybrash/pseuds/verballybrash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>for Sundays with him were my favorite ― SpUK</p>
            </blockquote>





	laundromat

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, I've had this lying around for a while now. SpUK is my OTP, so I really want to contribute to its small (yet large?) fanbase. Disclaimer applies. 
> 
> Prompt: your OTP doing laundry together.

Out of all the days of the week, Sundays were my favorite.

Sunday was laundry day, and that meant scrambling for loose change under the couch cushions early in the morning, silently cursing over cold coffee and cold toast afterwards. It meant piling up all the dirty laundry and stuffing them in bags, silently hoping that they’d all fit. It also meant taking a ten-minute walk to the nearest laundromat, heavy bags of laundry in hand with a novel carefully tucked inside one of them.

But to me Sunday also meant seeing him, my self-proclaimed laundry partner.

He was a quite attractive man with sun-kissed skin and bright green eyes shielded by dark brown hair. He always took the washer and dryer beside mine, and whenever it was just the two of us he’d hum a Spanish song I’d faintly recognize from school.

We never talked as we conversed through our actions. I’d always set down my book whenever he arrived and smile, and he’d smile back as he would make his way to the washer beside mine. Whenever he hummed I’d relax my shoulders and sigh contently and whenever he would finish his washing he’d wait for me to finish in order to move on to drying, as if we made an unspoken yet firm agreement.

And when the sun would set and he would finish first he’d tap my shoulder and nod, and I would nod as well as he would pack his clean laundry and leave.

There were no awkward conversations and no hellos and goodbyes, just the faint smell of lavender and the sound of humming filling the air as the afternoon sun filtered through the pale white laundromat blinds. His entire being calmed me, and his presence became a constant in my life, despite not knowing his name.

And because of that, Sundays were what I looked forward to every week.

* * *

On one of those Sunday afternoons, I fell in love.

Maybe it was his vibrant green eyes, or the way he laughed softly after humming, but all I knew was that I was in love, and that I was in love with him.

But of course falling in love needed a catalyst, and that was what one certain Sunday afternoon offered to me.

We were drying our laundry when he accidentally fell asleep. We were the only ones around at the laundromat and he just finished humming his favorite Spanish song, the constant buzzing of the dryer the only thing I heard while I was reading my novel. When I felt a sudden weight on my left shoulder, I took a glance and had to catch my breath.

The strong smell of detergent soap overwhelmed me as I watched his chest rise and fall in line with mine. His lips were slightly parted, a hand placed on his stomach as the other one lay limp by his side. I heard soft snores and I only laughed as I set down my book and let out a sigh. Putting a hand on my chest, I had to calm my erratic beating heart as I closed my eyes and leaned on him.

On the process of listening to him breathe I fell asleep as well, and the time I woke up was the time he woke up as well. He rubbed his eyes as he looked at me, smiling rather apologetically.

"Oh, I’m sorry." he apologized, and his rather thick accent making my head spin.

I smiled back, ignoring the fact that my chest felt like it was about to explode. “It’s alright.”

He nodded, and with that our conversation died but without much regret, as our laundry was ready to be picked up.

We silently folded the clothes and placed them in our bags.  With a nod and without another word we parted ways.

His apology reverberated through my head on the walk back home, and for some reason I began to loathe the six days of the week.

* * *

For some reason Sunday afternoons turned me into a hopeless romantic.

The atmosphere between us completely changed ― at least, in my part it did ― and wistful glances turned into longing stares, my heart hoping for that certain afternoon to repeat once more.

I began to abhor other customers in the laundromat every Sunday afternoon, for I always looked forward to him humming his favorite song ― a self-proclaimed love song that connected the two of us. I also began to read novels with more romantic themes (much opposed the mystery novels I loved), holding it just a little bit higher so he could see the cover, as if it is a declaration that yes, I was in love.

I was in love with someone whose name I had no knowledge of.

And that thought kept me up every night, staring at the wall as I counted down the minutes ― no, seconds ― until I would see him again.

* * *

But it was also a Sunday afternoon when I had my heart broken.

We were the only ones present, but he wasn’t humming and for some reason I lost interest in the novel I was reading. He looked tense and troubled, and as much as I wanted to talk to him, I had no courage to do so.

So I settled with staring at the dryer like he was, a thick air of awkwardness enveloping the two of us.

But it was his voice that shattered the silence, catching me completely off guard.

"I’m… moving away."

I felt my chest constrict as I glanced at him. _What…?_

"I’m settling down with my girlfriend. Looks like I won’t be doing my laundry with you anymore." he laughed awkwardly, still staring at the dryer in front of him.

It was too much for me to handle. _He had a girlfriend… he was moving away… I’ll never see him again…_

My head and my heart felt like they were going to explode.

I turned away from his somber eyes to stop my tears from spilling over. Covering my mouth with my hand, I choked back a soundless sob.

It took me twenty seconds to compose myself before I looked at him again, smiling as if he was completely sorry that we grew this close to each other.

"I… just wanted to know your name before I left."

_How ironic._

"My name is Arthur Kirkland." I told him, avoiding his eyes because I didn’t want my heart to be broken any further.

He laughed and I flinched. “That’s a nice name.”

"And you… what’s your name…?" I asked offhandedly, because I wanted to know the name of the first person who broke my heart.

"Antonio Fernandez Carriedo." he mumbled, his smile catching me fast. "But I prefer being called Antonio…"

Ah… Antonio. Fitting name for a heartbreaker like him.

"Well, congratulations Antonio." I tried not to sound so bitter and heartbroken, but the words came out stronger than I expected.

"Thank you."

That was the last conversation we had, for when his clothes were done he hurriedly tucked them in his bag and left. I did not even bother to acknowledge him leave.

And when he did leave, the tears that were held back spilled uncontrollably, and I spent the afternoon alone, crying my heart out over some stranger I fell in love with in the laundromat.

When night fell I bandaged my poor heart, packed my laundry and left without another word. Leaving behind fond memories of humming and unrequited love, I did not dare come back.

I began to loathe all the days of the week.

* * *

end.


End file.
